


Ink Painting

by fakehaunting



Series: Inked [2]
Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Content, True Love, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakehaunting/pseuds/fakehaunting
Summary: It was still so early on, but I think, even then, I was in love with her.
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Edmund O'Mara, Dani Clayton/Jamie
Series: Inked [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988686
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Ink Painting

At that time, I was at the height of my so-called fame. If a person could even call it fame; being looked at because of how much of a willing partner I was and because my voice was nice. It was truly the only fame I could’ve been given. Everyone’s eyes on me every second of the day. 

I walked into the bar and already felt the burning stares of the customers that had already arrived. Part of me didn’t understand how people could walk into a bar so early and drink so easily, as though the liquid didn’t burn their throat and move straight to their heart. But I did understand because I had done the exact same thing time and time again. 

I had no room to judge them but they held all of the power to judge me and always would. I made my way over to the bar and swallowed all of my pride: that day would be the day that things changed. After hundreds of times of coming to the bar and getting only silence- I would talk to the bartender. 

“Why do you work here?” I tried to make myself sound as curious as possible to let her know that I was interested. I had been curious about her since day one. 

“Why does anyone work anywhere?” she replied and did what she usually did: put my vodka straight in front of me. That had been another thing that I was curious about- how she seemed to know my favourite drink. 

“Money?”

“Added benefit.” She sounded purely uninterested in any form of conversation. I found myself wanting to know exactly what her answers were. I wanted her to answer all of the questions that had suddenly risen to the surface of my body. 

“So you have other reasons for working at this place? I would’ve thought that you needed the money like most people here.” She didn’t look like the rest of the bartenders that worked there. She wasn’t as desperate to speak or to listen as they were; she wasn’t hungry for an escape. 

“Who says that I have to have a reason? Maybe I just want to work here.” I couldn’t help but snort at her response. She seemed so sure of herself but so unsure at the same time. I felt more secure with the glass in my hand- the liquid courage I needed to continue such a conversation with someone like her.

She was a mystery to me and I had always been a person that wanted the answers to everything; mysteries were not my friend even at that time. 

“Yeah right. No one wants to work at a bar. Especially not this kind of one.” 

“If it’s so rotten here why do you always show up?” I smiled at her but she did not look up to see it. After a few minutes my semi-happy smile turned into a downcast frown. She would not look at me for even a second.

“I thrive here. You could do much better.” 

“I’m sure.” I had never been one to waste my time with people before. I stood up and walked away from her. But though she wouldn’t look at me for even one fraction of a second, I didn’t feel like I had wasted my time. In fact I felt better than I ever had; like I had done something worthwhile. 

For once in my life I felt content in myself. She did not look at me which meant that she did not see my face; she did not know that I was Mona Lisa. The only person in the world that had yet to find out. A naive and idiotic part of me wished that such a thing could last.

-

“Danielle,” Eddie called softly and wrapped his arms around my waist. I closed my eyes as the regret sank in. Every day I woke up with more and more of it, drowning in it faster than I did in the alcohol that I drank- the alcohol that numbed me. “Good morning.”

“Good morning Eddie.” I should have been used to feeling dirty by that point but there was never really a chance to grow used to it. I could not build up a tolerance to such a thing by doing dirty acts over and over again- it was too cruel to myself. I could only feel more and more dirty every time it happened. 

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. Did you?” Our conversations seemed to grow weaker as time passed. I had begun to lack interest in my own words when it came to him; my interest in saying things that made him listen slowly fading away. 

“Of course. When you’re by my side I sleep without a care.” I wished that I could’ve said the same thing about him. But when I slept beside him and heard the soft rhythm of his breathing I could only feel burdened and depressed. I was sure that he knew my heart by that point.

Holding onto things was something that he was good at. He’d made quite a collection of important artifacts and beautiful things- none as beautiful as me, or so he’d said. I was his prized possession, the jewel in the collection. I was the only living piece of art that he ever wanted and the only one that he’d ever own. 

To say that I felt good about that would’ve been an unusually bitter lie. 

“I have to go out on some business today and I’ll be returning later than usual so please don’t wait up for me. You need your beauty sleep.” 

“Of course.” I listened to him without any sort of protest, knowing that doing such things would only waste my words and get me looked at strangely. I could not afford that from him. 

“I’ll see you soon.” He kissed my neck and I tried to stop myself from shaking. Feeling his lips on my skin was a frightening sensation that I had never been ready to accept. I didn’t think that I ever would enjoy it again- not after what I knew. 

Those hands that had touched me so many times had orchestrated murder, had stolen and cheated people. Those were some of the reasons that I could not and would not return his feelings. Though it guilted me and plagued me every night I could not deny that I held no love there. 

I only stayed there, forever by his side, because there was not another choice. Eddie the powerful senator was weaker than he let on. 

-

I still don’t know why I did it. I went back to that bar every single day and talked to her. I learned that her name was Jamie and that she was 26, two years younger than myself. She interested me in ways that I didn’t understand at that point. Jamie answered all of my questions but never asked any herself.

That didn’t stop me from giving her answers. 

I thought that the more answers I gave her, the more questions would be raised and soon she would break and ask me something. But she proved to be the exact opposite of my beliefs. Even then I longed to be asked something- I longed for her curiousity. 

It was something I could never have, it was too bad that I would never give up on it. I would never give up on the woman that refused to look at London’s most watched piece of living art. 

-

The scenery in which I was supposed to thrive in- the nightlife- was something that I truly hated. The swelling and never-ending darkness always made me feel too cold. Bad things happened in the night and I knew that they were things that couldn’t be erased. What went bump in the night? Eddie.

I walked by the stage that usually housed my emotions. The stage in which I sang my heart out and was rewarded with the applause of the judgemental eyes. That was why I thrived in such a filthy place; they would always be there to clap for me, giving me the sustenance that was needed to live a life like mine.

I had found myself waiting until the proper time to come into the bar that day- the time that Jamie started her shift. After days of waiting I had finally timed it perfectly and it pleased me to have done so. It was better than coming in during the morning and getting drunk until she decided to saunter in. 

As I walked by the hoards of people that called to me, I looked up and saw her speaking to one of the bartenders. I was extremely jealous. For some odd reason I had considered Jamie to be mine and only mine, to talk to, to look at, to long for. 

I had done the same thing to her as Eddie had done to me.

The bartender known to me as Joon was a person that loved spreading gossip and rumours. I had heard him multiple times by that point and knew that he was destroying my fantasy. That day he had broken my only wish by telling Jamie the truth. 

I could no longer be an anonymous customer to her. But a part of me longed for that moment to happen; for her to know the truth about the person she gave the answers to. I wanted to see if she would be able to stand me once she knew how truly disgusting a person I was. 

A person made from the strokes of a dirty paint brush. 

I waited until Joon had finally left before I walked over to Jamie. For once I did not go to get my drink but to just talk to her- ask her what she really thought. 

“So you know now?” Without a hint of hesitation she grabbed a glass and poured the exact amount of vodka in and handed it to me. I could’ve tried to hide the depression from my voice but I was beyond exhausted from doing that for so long. 

“Know what?” Confusion broke through the layers of depression within me. 

“I saw you talking to Joon. He’s a gossiping bitch.” I hadn’t meant for it to be funny but I noticed the corner of her lip twitch- she had nearly smiled at something I had said. 

I had not known that just seeing someone nearly smile at me would have been enough to sustain me. That I did not need the applause from the people that only wanted to sleep with me- that her smile was enough and it did more for me than all of the thunderous clapping. It hadn’t even been a full smile but it had made me delirious with warmth. 

“I still don’t know what you’re referring to.” 

“He didn’t tell you?” 

“He didn’t have to. I already know you only drink vodka straight.” It was at that moment that I realized what selflessness meant. What she had done for me without question- aiding in my misconceptions- was just that. I chuckled and drank the burning liquid down in one sip. But that day it didn’t burn me like it usually did. 

“They say your alcoholic preference dictates your personal preference. I like my vodka straight- but that’s not how I like my women.” I had never been so straightforward with someone before but it felt like the right time to try. 

“Cute,” her words did something to me that no amount of alcohol in the entire world could do. 

“I’d prefer sexy but a compliment from you is a rarity so I’ll accept it, for now.” I was never one for accepting less than what I wanted and I had no clue as to why I had done it then. Maybe it was what I had wanted without really knowing. 

-

“Danielle,” the woman moaned as she rocked against me. I hadn’t really known her name all too well- something that started with an ‘J’ that my mind could’ve easily turned into the person that I wanted. She had been staring at me all night and I had grown bored of sitting idly. 

My mind had always been a cruel place but it had done something even more cruel to me then. I imagined Jamie. Jamie bucking her hips against me, Jamie touching me, Jamie whispering things that I couldn’t understand. Never once before had I imagined someone else when doing those kinds of things. It had always been better to stay within the moment. 

But underneath that woman I was still Mona Lisa, I was still Danielle. 

I wanted so desperately for that person to be Jamie. I knew that if it were her I wouldn’t have to hold up any appearances, swallow my pride and the pain, I could enjoy it. Instead I felt numb and used as I did most nights. 

“You’re so beautiful, Danielle.” I wanted to tell her to shut up and end it faster. To punish me for my sin and make me atone for it by hurting me deeply, scarring the inside of my body and the outside simultaneously. 

I did what I had always done: put on a show for the woman above me. I put the paint on thicker and showed her the face that she wanted to see. Mona Lisa and not Dani. Because Dani was never the one that was wanted and I knew never would be.

-

In my youth I had loved to sing. My family and friends had said that my voice was a gift from God and that I should use it whenever I could. I had sang for most of my childhood, the need to slipping away during adolescence and returning as a dim glow in adulthood. 

Every week I got on that stage and sang my heart out in order to get what I wanted. That day was no different than any of the other days I had done such a thing. The spotlight was on me and the bar patrons all wanted me in their own right. 

I belonged to them.

“Even that time when the wind stays, it’s not enough for me.” I had never struggled to see past the glaring light of the stage before. Seeing the faces of the people that were hungry for me never really mattered to me- it was them that I was craving. 

Jamie had walked in. 

“I smile one more time and give my final greeting: I love you. I am tired now and love hurts but even if that time is just a memory, I have to give my final greeting. I love you, I love you.” 

She did not pause for even a second as she walked to the bar and began to work. I felt even more broken than I had before- my voice didn’t matter to her at all. Suddenly all of the applause didn’t matter and only left a bitter taste in my mouth. The spotlight burned me severely and I no longer wanted it. 

I only wanted her eyes to look at me, her mouth to form the words and ask me a single question. Even that was denied. It was selfishness that made me want to ask her something important: why didn’t she ever see me properly?

“Fly away, fly away love. Fly away, fly away love. Fly away, fly away, love. In the afterlife I will greet my love again.” My song ended and the applause began but I paid it no mind. It wasn’t what I wanted at that time. Painting on a smile, my famous half-smile, I got off of the stage and went straight to the boss. I asked her for Jamie and access to the VIP room. It was time for her to see me. 

That was before I understood that she did not have to look at me to see me, to understand me. Before I understood thats she- the one who never looked at me- had seen me better than most people that constantly looked at me ever did. 

-

Jamie took longer than I had expected to come to the VIP room. While I had waited, I had taken it upon myself to drink some of the alcohol that was kept in the room. My head buzzed with chemically induced glee and courage. The courage that only alcohol could give me. 

“You never ask me anything.” The alcohol had gotten to me faster than I had expected it to. Though I sounded intoxicated and extremely unaware, she still poured me more. I sometimes wondered why she gave me more of the substance that I was addicted to: when I forgot that she was a bartender and not my friend, not my lover, not anything.

“Why would I?”

Every time she asked me a question like that in her condescending tone, it broke my heart a little bit more. I thought that she considered me as an ingrate, a nuisance to her, a child in an adult world. I wanted her to see me as more than that. 

“There it is again. You only ask me questions that make me feel like an idiot. ‘Why would I do this?’ ‘Why would I care?’ ‘What do you think?’ They’re always so cruel.” Jamie could only ask me things like that- things that didn’t count as being curious. She always managed to do that to me and make me hurt even more than I did before. 

“I don’t know what you want from me.” I didn’t know either. Though I could feign idiocy and say that I didn’t know what my true desire for her was, I could only lie so much. I wanted her to care about me enough to be curious. I wanted her to want me more than anything or anyone else. 

I wanted her and only her, her eyes, her mind, her mouth, her body, her lips, her curiousity. I wanted to know what it felt like to be burned by her accusing stare. 

“Do you not care about me?” I was only beginning to feel the real world, the world outside of my alcoholic haze. That was the first time I had ever asked that kind of meaningless question to anyone and I decided then that it would be the last. A piece of me begged for her to admit that she cared for me and wanted to make sure that I was okay. 

My sanity rested in a stranger. 

“Tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it.” She was just the bartender that gave me alcohol, she wasn’t a friend and she wasn’t a lover. Jamie gave the exact same thing that she gave me to many different people; hundreds every day. 

She made it seem so easy to boss her around; the customers were her boss. She worked only on what they wanted and not what they needed. That would never work for me. I didn’t want her to say anything. I needed her to admit things to me that she’d never tell anyone else. 

I needed her to trust in me like I trusted in her every time I told her something that I would never have dreamed of saying aloud to another living soul. 

“Ask me a question. Just one and I’ll give you the answer- I just want you to ask me something, show me that you’re curious.” She only stared at the wall and did not say a word. I couldn’t tell if she was even breathing anymore. 

As if holding her breath could’ve changed that moment any more than blinking could have. 

Every second that went by without a word killed me even more. My lungs burned with the need to breathe in her words and speak them out. I needed her words so much more than I was ready to admit at that point; I knew she needed me too. 

Or at least, that’s what I prayed for.

Though every single day I asked her more and more questions I never asked her what I really wanted to. I never allowed the scared child in me to come out and attack her with nonsensical words and barely there meanings. I didn’t allow myself to give into what I truly wanted: to cling to her with the honesty and naive reservations of a child. 

Would she be able to live without me once I was gone?

Did she rely on me like I relied on her?

Did she need my answers as much as I needed hers? 

Was I only an easily forgotten customer?

“Jamie.” In the end I begged her, her name falling off of my lips like a prayer. As though that was all that it would take to save me. “Please? Please Jamie?” I could call her name from miles away and she would hear me just as well as she did in that moment. But still she did not move. 

I could beg her and ask enough questions to fill the air with words, I could paint a picture for her and allow her to step inside that painted world of my creation, and she would not look at me. 

Did her eyes that were forever downcast hold the meaning to life’s question? I feared that I would never know. 

But in a way it was better that she didn’t look at me. I didn’t want her to see the disgusting person I had become after years of use and sin. I wanted her to have no image of me in her mind except for the one that I would hide from the rest of the world and only show to her. I did not want her to know me as Mona Lisa. 

Even at that time, if she would’ve looked at me, she would’ve seen Mona Lisa- though my paint was cracked and chipping away- she would not have seen me. 

I pulled my legs up to my chest and explained to her the sorrows of my life. I told her about Eddie, what I liked about him, how we’d met, how my life had come to that point. I told her everything that I refused to tell anyone else. Sometime during my monologue I grabbed the vodka and drank it- like it could help me get those words out. 

It was true that bartenders were like cheap therapists. At least she was like that for me. 

But instead of giving me some sort of helpful advice, she only said ‘oh’. I don’t know what I was expecting from her- some profound answer to everything I needed to ask- but I wanted more than that. 

“You must think that I’m a horrible person.” 

“I don’t have the right to judge you.”

There was something about that single sentence that proved everything I had thought wrong. I had believed that the entire world, the world that could look upon me with pity or distaste, could judge me. They made me who I was by the judgements that were cast my way. I didn’t think anything of it. 

“Who are you, Jamie?” Was she some sort of saint? Was she an angel in disguise? I longed for her to give me the answers that I craved. She would answer everything else and I knew that she wouldn’t answer that abyss-like question. 

“Whoever you want me to be… I can’t be that person for you.” I sat there in a stupor and watched as she stood up and walked away. The world around me turned into a watercolour painting as the tears that I had held back for so long began to fall. 

Though I had a lot to cry about, I had never been a person to do so. I had always seen it as a sign of weakness and didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak. I didn’t want them to know that I wasn’t as strong as I let on. Jamie- the blind to me bartender- had made me cry. 

It was still so early on, but I think, even then, I was in love with her. 

-

I was Mona Lisa; a person in a frame that was looked at so often that it became normal. One time Eddie took me to The Louvre to see the actual painting. I remember staring at it and thinking about how sad she looked. Most people saw her smile and automatically assumed that she was happy. 

If anyone looked beyond her smile they would see how horrifying the scene was. I sympathized with the woman that was forever stuck on that wall, in that ‘perfect’ world. She would always be stuck there and unable to grow, to love, to die. An eternal life that she did not want was the only thing that she could have.

Even that was not her own: she was only kept alive by the eyes that looked at her and the voices that spoke about her. The people that would never truly understand what it was like to be in her place. 

I had put on a fake smile while looking in that mirror. Eddie stood beside me talking about how beautiful it was and how alike we were. I had struggled with that fact; a mirror image of the saddest person in the entire world. 

Before I left the museum I whispered something to her. I felt like I had been the only one to talk to her and not about her. I had been the only one to consider her feelings. 

“I know that this wasn’t what you wanted.”

-

I had never been one for waiting. Things usually just fell right into my lap without wasting any time. But Jamie wasn’t like that and never would be. That night was the very first night that I had waited: waited for the bar to close, for the door to lock and the customers to leave so that there would be no distractions. For the first time ever it was only her and I. 

She was stacking the glasses when I walked into the room. I was drunk out of my mind and had lost most of my judgement in the hours before. I couldn’t have cared less that I was suddenly ungraceful and idiotic- I was not keeping up my appearance anymore. 

“You never look at me.”

“The bar is closed.” 

“Why won’t you look at me, Jamie? Am I really that disgusting to you? Am I- Mona Lisa- so disgusting that you don’t even want to meet my eyes? Am I that repulsive?” 

Every inch of me longed for the sweet release that only she could give me. I didn’t know exactly what she would do or say but I wanted it. Even if she would’ve told me that I was the most disgusting and repulsive creature on the planet and looked at me with hatred in her eyes I would have been happy. 

At least she would’ve met my eyes even for a second. She would’ve returned the feelings I felt in regards to myself. The self-loathing, depression and hatred. We would’ve been the same in that respect. 

I was on the other side of the world- in the great beyond and purgatory- waiting for her response. I would’ve waited for her for the rest of my life regardless of her answer. Only because I wanted her so badly, because I needed her to want me. 

Her eyes that were blind to me suddenly regained their sight; she looked at me. Jamie had the most beautiful eyes that I had ever seen: they held so much warmth and were not the least bit distant. In that moment I understood why she had never looked at me before. 

She had not looked at me prior to that moment because her eyes betrayed her completely. Instead of the cool and calm personality that her voice tried to pass off for her own, they showed that she was just as fragile as me, twice as warm, and that she needed me. That she cared about me. 

“Don’t cry, Dani.” I wept for the beauty that was Jamie; the sound of her voice and the look in her eyes when she said my name.

I wanted her to see me as beautiful upon the first time our eyes met. Instead she saw the grotesque image of me crying, unable to stop my lips from quivering and my tears from falling. My worst fear was people- her- being disappointed in me. 

“Why would I ever be disappointed in you? You’re beautiful.” She spoke to those fears and coaxed them into silence like no one else ever could. I could not hide the things I felt inside of me anymore. I didn’t stay standing there because there was no longer an easel holding me in place. I ran to her and threw all of my emotions her way. 

She held me in her arms as though it was normal, as though it was okay for me to cry at her and beg for her to show me something, anything that proved that life was worth it. 

I felt like Pinocchio instead of Mona Lisa; begging for someone to make me real. I pleaded for her to be that magical star that would grant my wish, for her to hold me in her hands and turn that bleeding paint into art.

“You said that you couldn’t be that person for me. Don’t say that again. Don’t ever say something so careless to me ever again- I won’t be able to stand it.” I counted the beating of her heart underneath my body, I longed to hold her even harder to make sure she would not slip away from me.

“I know.” Jamie knew everything there was to know; all of my secrets and fears. But she did not run away from the imperfect work of art like the rest of the world did. She embraced me completely and took me how I was without anything getting in the way. 

I looked up into her beautiful eyes and did not miss the need within them. I kissed her and felt something I never had before: love. 

-

Ink painting, sumie, : using only black ink to create a picture. Used not to capture the true likeness of the subject but to capture it’s spirit, the movement and the living element within it. 

Jamie was a masterpiece using such a technique. Everything about her was completely black and white, monochromatic and ink-like. She was not a simple colour painting as I was- but a complicated series of lines that captured the spirit of her soul, the natural and unadulterated beauty that belonged to her and no one else.

She, unlike myself, did not need colour and a smile to be beautiful. 

Jamie was an angel caught in mid-flight, her portrait immortalized in a peaceful way. But she was not viewed by millions of people; it was only me that got to see her. I got to touch her and feel just how much she cared about me. I got to love her.

Her hands travelled down my body and explored the painted expanse. She was careful with me though I desperately wanted her to be rough. I wanted her to be the one to take away all of my sins and cleanse me with her love; to give me the pain that I needed in order to wake up from my forever dreaming state that I was stuck in. 

Our lips locked in a timid way before giving up and attacking each other. Having her body slick with sweat pressed against my own was all that I could’ve wished for. It was better than anything I had ever felt in my entire life- I was greedy and wanted more. 

“Jamie,” I moaned as if pleading for her. I wanted her everything; anything she could offer was what I desired. She managed to reach parts of me that I hadn’t known existed, experience things I had never believed to be true. Though I had been touched before it had never been like this. The look on her face told me that she was feeling the exact same way. 

I would keep the memory of that one night together in my mind forever and never allow the flame it gave me to be extinguished. 

I looked up at her face, ran my fingers through her hair, touched any part of her that I could reach. She kept very still as if understanding what I was doing. I don’t know just what I was looking for but something in her eyes gave me it. Even though it was just for a few seconds that look she gave me was enough. 

I couldn’t help but feel attached to her. Though what we had just done was brutal in its intensity, it still managed to be soft and fragile. I kissed the very marks that I had created on her neck and nuzzled my head against it. She ran her fingers through my hair and I felt a wave of exhaustion hit me. 

That was something that I had never done before, allow myself to be touched by someone I’d had sex with. I didn’t allow them to do meaningless things- things that would make it seem like they cared about me. But I understood that she was different. She cared about me. 

Though the paint was peeling and the sea of alcohol was getting deeper, I had someone trying to reach me through it. Someone who cared enough to attempt, though completely fruitless, to save me.

-

After our night together, not much changed. I was happier that way and I think she knew that. Our relationship didn’t change- it just grew into a twisted yet strong picture. Though it seemed like she had seen everything there was to see when it came to me, that was not the case. I opened up to her more and more every single day. 

I told her my biggest dreams, hopes, fears, thoughts, beliefs. She still refused to ask me anything but I was growing more okay with it as time moved by. Only because I could feel those questions that formed with every beat of her carefully inked heart- I answered the silent questions that she was too ashamed to ask. 

Her voice didn’t ask but her heart did and that was okay for me. 

My love for her grew with every passing second, every inch of me becoming hers. Jamie didn’t care about all of the hands that had touched me and added to the painting; she only cared about what was underneath. She was the first person to ever truly care for me in such a way. I wanted her to love me too but with her, I was never entirely sure about her feelings. 

Sometimes she would ignore me like she had before and not look at me or talk to me- she would interact with other people. The jealousy would eat at me until there was nothing left but hatred for the person she was talking to. We weren’t in a relationship but I felt like she was cheating on me. 

I punished her for that by yelling at her, complaining at her and refusing to give her any answers to her internal questions. More often than not I had to prove that she still wanted me by offering up my body and begging to be touched. 

The vodka that I drank wasn’t the only paint thinner that I had access to: her love ripped the paint off of Mona Lisa and helped me attempt to break free from that frame. I thanked her for that in every way that I could. But it would never be enough.

-

“I want to go to that place that you’re always going to,” Eddie said softly as he came to stand beside the chair that I sat in. The scenery outside seemed so very dead at that time- but it was always dim outside of that house in which I spent the other half of my life within. 

“You do?”

“You seem to like it so much, I’d like to know what my Danielle likes. The place that steals your attention away from me.” I could not tell if he was joking or not. Eddie had never been the possessive type, at least not in that way. He only wanted me by his side and did not care about what I did when I wasn’t with him; he didn’t dictate that part of my existence. 

“I thought that you’d have more important things to do with your time.” 

“That place is important to you so it’s important to me. Besides, my schedule is clear for the next few days.”

“That’s great.” 

I knew what that meant. The place that was just Jamie and I’s haven was going to be invaded by the very person that forced me to become Mona Lisa. Spending time with Eddie wasn’t a bad thing, he was a very nice guy, but I had been perfectly content having him in the part of my life that I left in our shared home. When I was outside and in the bar I was no longer his. 

Jamie would be mad at me and would blame me. But I could not allow her to hate me because of such an event. I couldn’t lose her, or I might lose myself in the darkness that was my life. 

-

We walked into my haven together, Eddie’s hands touching my skin. I painted on my trademark smile and tried to make it seem like I was happy that we were together. I looked for Jamie and found her behind the bar in his usual spot. 

She ignored me. 

There had been many times that I’d grown used to her not meeting my eyes. Those times were usually followed by a heavy sort of apology that resulted in a beautiful masterpiece between us. They were never out of anger or distaste. But that time, I could feel the anger radiating off of her. 

I begged whoever would listen for her to look at me- I needed her to see that it wasn’t my choice and I wanted her to forgive me. It hadn’t been my decision. But she wouldn’t look at me at all or even entertain the thought. Not when we walked by her, not when we sat down, not when she made our drinks. 

The gin burned as it went down and it gave me an extreme amount of pain. It was nothing compared to the pain I felt when she wouldn’t look at me. 

Liquid pain for the bitter heart. 

“It’s nice here.” I could hear the fact that Eddie was trying his best to enjoy the place for me. I did not want that from him in the slightest. I wanted him to hate it and never come back. “I can see why you spend so much time here.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I have to be honest with you,” he said as he grabbed his drink from the counter and took an easy sip. I wondered how he could do it without flinching. “I didn’t come here just to come and see where you go.”

“No?”

“I wanted to do this where you’re at your happiest.” Fear struck my heart as he reached into his pocket and produced a small black box. I knew instantly what was inside. “Danielle, I love you so much. I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.” 

“Eddie,” I said breathlessly. I did not dare open the box that held my future. 

“We can get married soon and move away from this place- start somewhere new. We have to do it quickly so that nothing can get in our way.” He launched into a grand explanation of what he wanted to do, happiness leaking from his voice like fresh paint. 

For me, the paint was dried and turning a darker shade. 

I could feel my beautifully and carefully inked fantasy slowly slipping away from me and there was nothing that I could do about it.

-

Like a sinner repenting to God in order to get into Heaven, I begged her for forgiveness. She cleaned as though I wasn’t even there and answered me sharply. She did not care about excuses- she seemed like she was finished with me. 

I couldn’t allow her to slip away. It would hurt too much if that became a reality. 

I kissed the skin of my masterpiece and tried to coax her into believing in me again. I needed her to look at me with the same intensity that she had before. If she left me like that, I would cease to exist. 

“I’m sorry Jamie. Don’t be mad at me anymore.” I could feel her starting to give in as I gripped her shirt and begged. “You know it’s not her.”

“It’s okay,” her forgiveness had come easier than I had expected and I began to cry. Her strong chest underneath me was the only thing that allowed me to feel the reality of the situation. 

It was then that I explained everything to her: Eddie’s plans for our future. She didn’t hold me or touch me in any way. I feared that she was disgusted with me because of how easily I could give myself up to someone that I didn’t want. 

“What do you want me to say?”

“Don’t do that, don’t put that on me. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“How am I supposed to feel?”

I lost control at that point: tired of how blank she could be when she decided it was time. I shouted at her and thrashed against her chest weakly, punching her chest as I cried. It was too much for me to take in. 

“I.. I love you Jamie!” My body refused to respond to me anymore, I stopped hitting her and covered my face so that she wouldn’t see the paint that fell from me. After years of constant abuse Mona Lisa had started to tear. “I love you so damn much!” 

“Dani.” I knew she was trying to calm me down but I could not stop the raging emotions that were leaving me. I had stepped on them for so long that I had forgotten what it was like to feel. 

“Do you not feel anything for me at all? Is that why you disregard me so much? Am I a nuisance to you and you’re happy that I’m leaving?” 

“Stop jumping to conclusions.”

“What am I supposed to do when you won’t tell me anything?” She took me in her arms and tried to soothe my endless depression. I could feel how hard she was trying for me. 

“Do you really think that I have no feelings for you at all? Am I a monster?” I felt her warm lips on my hair and I shivered. “I love you too.” 

My eyes moved in order to find hers. Her face was distorted due to the tears that would not stop falling for even a second. But I could see the melancholy on her features. I had managed to destroy a work of art. She smiled sadly at me and my heart broke for her. 

I wanted her to love me and only me, my selfishness overwhelming my senses. If only she could’ve stolen me from the private gallery I was locked in and taken me away. 

There were too many if only’s to count and we both knew it was pointless to even try. 

-

The sun was rising when our final conversation happened. The world around us was waking up and unaware of the hell we had both experienced. There were barely any words to explain it, the lingering feelings of sadness and longing. Though she was right beside me- we were far away. Worlds apart. 

I, stuck in the painted colour of an empty wish while she was in the monochrome reality.

The more that I thought about it, the more I realized that I had done the exact same thing to her as Eddie and many others had done to me. I had stolen a piece of magnificent art and placed it on a shelf that no one was allowed to even get near. 

I allowed people to look but not to touch or long for. I had given her love and stolen it away, ruining her for everyone else. I had broken her in too many places to heal from. The black ink was running all around us and no one could stanch the flow. When colour and shades mixed, the colour was darkened effectively. 

I wished that she was what she wanted to be: the artist instead of the art. 

We were both people that were two sides of the same coin. We had needed each other long before we’d met, before we’d spoken and allowed our needs to be known. I wanted so much to take her down from that shelf and let someone else gaze at the beauty- something that was not done for me. 

But I couldn’t allow that. She was mine and I did not want to let her go, not ever. I was selfish and wanted too much from her. I wondered why she had given everything I wanted to me without a second glance. She had tried until the end. 

We sat there for hours until she decided to leave first, giving me a small kiss before going off into the darkness. It was then that I realized that she was not the monochrome art that I had thought she was, but a paper lantern sent afloat in the air. I could never hold her there- her eyes or her mind- because she belonged to the Earth and the air, for the world to see. 

Jamie never asked me a single question. 

-

We never married. 

Eddie and I moved away from London but never ended up getting married. We stayed together as a testament to the past- I think he still loved me then. But I would stay at home all day every day and do absolutely nothing but wait for the next day to come. Sometimes he wouldn’t return home at all; he would be gone for days and then come back with presents that I didn’t want. 

We were very tired of each other. 

On those days when he didn’t come back I would go back to London and return to that bar. I would never see Jamie and I was terrified of that fact. Had she moved on properly? Had she forgotten me? I did not know and could not ask. 

I had stopped drinking- the vodka never tasted as good as when Jamie gave it to me. But I did ask a jeweller to fashion a ring out of a vodka bottle cap that I always wore, pretending that she had given it to me. I was pathetic but it was the only way that I could hold onto her. 

I watched as the world moved on around me as I remained completely still. I listened as I slowly became what I’d always feared I would be: a distant memory. The people that had once known me did not care enough to preserve the memory of London’s stolen art. I was, essentially, forgotten. 

-

The window had been covered completely by the frost outside so that I could not see out of it. It made me feel better for some reason, to not be able to see the scenery of a place that I detested so very much. 

I turned on the water in the bathtub and as I waited for it to fill, I looked into the mirror. Seeing the new me was not something that I liked. A bittersweet moment, really. 

I was not Mona Lisa anymore- the portrait of a beauty immortalized in her prime. I was not untouched anymore, time had changed me. The paint thinner had gotten to Mona Lisa and shown what had been painted beneath the colours with invisible ink. 

A tired Geisha; years of use wearing down the youthful glow and eternal charm- the permanent smile gone. No longer regarded as beautiful, used as an example of what not to become- a cautionary tale. London’s most worn out piece, life finally invading the frozen scenery. No longer was I Mona Lisa, but the portrait on the tomb of the unknown Geisha. 

Mona Lisa was not allowed to grow- time was forbidden to touch her- I could no longer exist inside of that painted world: my place stolen by the next unknowing victim, just a fragment of the once great beauty. London’s Mona Lisa had been destroyed in the great fire known simple as time. 

The water ran over the side of the tub and splashed against the floor, touching my feet. It was freezing and just the way I liked it- cold like the paint I had once been made out of. I wondered about her as I stripped myself of the layers of clothing that blocked me from the cold and stepped inside. 

What was Jamie doing at that time? Was she happy and living well? Did she have a family, a husband or wife? A lot of questions had formed in my mind as time passed but they were scattered. I smiled as I sank down deeper into the water, thinking up more questions that I’d have to ask her. 

I wanted her to be living well for I had taken her off of the shelf long ago.

My song came back to me instantly. 

“I smile one more time and give my final greeting: I love you. I am tired now and love hurts but even if that time is just a memory, I have to give my final greeting. I love you, I love you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> here is the second and probably final part in the Inked series! thank you so much for reading, your comments and kudos are so loved and appreciated. I would also love if you followed me on my shiny new tumblr [@fakehaunting](https://fakehaunting.tumblr.com/)!! I hope to see you there


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